Crescentia was confused—no, more like completely thrown off—by the sudden chill in Damian's demeanor. One minute he was possessive and whispering things that made her knees weak, and now he was as cold and unreadable as a statue carved from obsidian.
She didn't know what her uncle or Damian's father might have told him, but whatever it was, it had shifted something between them. Something she couldn't name.
Instead of answering his earlier question, she redirected with one of her own. "When is this party going to end? It's starting to get late."
Clara had volunteered to take care of Noella for the night, ensuring she took her medication and had everything she needed. But that didn't mean Crescentia wanted to spend the entire night mingling with people who either hated her or wanted to dissect her like a science project. She never liked parties. And even now, she could still feel her relatives' glares burrowing into her skin like acid.
Damian tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked her over. Even in heels, she barely reached his shoulder, and the way he stared down at her made her feel even smaller. Like prey.
"Why?" he asked, voice low. "Do you want to leave already?"
"Of course," she said as a matter-of-fact. "Your mother hasn't said anything to me yet, and I don't trust whatever might come out of her mouth once I walk back over there."
"You don't need to worry about either of them," he said. "I didn't bring you here for them. I brought you for my grandmother—she's the only one you need to please."
Crescentia gave a slight nod, biting the inside of her cheek. It wasn't easy pretending to be the girlfriend of a man she barely knew. What if his grandmother asked something personal? Something she had no idea how to answer? One wrong move and the whole façade would crumble.
Just as they turned to head back upstairs, the MC's voice rang out, announcing the official start of the event. All attention shifted to the elegant matriarch being helped down the steps by Mira, her daughter-in-law. Damian stayed beside Crescentia, pulling her closer when he noticed Lucian lingering just a little too near for his liking.
His fingers curled around her waist, firm and possessive.
Startled, Crescentia glanced up, questioning him with her eyes.
Then, without warning, Damian leaned in so close her breath caught in her throat. His spicy cologne overwhelmed her senses—woodsy, smoky, masculine. Her pulse quickened. His lips hovered by her ear, and she thought, absurdly, he might kiss her right there in front of everyone.
Instead, he whispered coldly, "Don't ever speak to Emily again."
It was just one sentence. But it pierced through her like a shard of ice.
Crescentia blinked with confusion. The warning came from nowhere. Emily had seemed… different. Not warm exactly, but not fake either. Not like the rest of them. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe Damian knew something she didn't. Still, it stung.
Just as she tried to process the sudden shift, he did something completely unexpected.
Damian bit down—sharp and deliberate—on her earlobe. She gasped, pain flashing through her like electricity. His teeth, sharp as a predator's, left a sting that made her wince. But before she could recoil, his tongue darted out, licking the sore spot to soothe it.
A cold, wet sensation mixed with heat. Her entire body shivered.
By the time he pulled away, her mind was already spinning. His attention was on his grandmother, now cracking jokes onstage and effortlessly charming the room. Crescentia forced herself to follow along, but she couldn't stop the spiraling thoughts. Her skin still tingled where he touched her.
Then something clicked in her mind—something she'd been meaning to ask.
"Did you know that my uncle and your father were friends?" she asked, quietly. Their earlier interaction might've seemed normal to others, but to her, it screamed secrets.
"I thought he hated everyone from the Belmore family."
Damian's reply was nonchalant, but it only deepened her suspicions. "He only despised Federico because he was his political opponent," he said. "As for your uncle… there's probably something in it for him."
'Of course there is,' she thought bitterly. 'That greedy old snake never does anything unless it benefits him.'
She didn't push further. Instead, she tried to focus on the matriarch, now lifting her glass to toast the crowd. The woman seemed entirely unbothered by Crescentia's presence—proof that she didn't share her son's political grudges. And Crescentia appreciated that.
The cake was cut, champagne glasses clicked, and conversations resumed. But Crescentia noticed Lucian—his eyes darting toward her like he was itching to speak. Too bad Damian stood in his way like a shield. Lucian would have to try harder than that if he wanted another round with a fractured shoulder.
"Damian," a voice interrupted smoothly. "I've been waiting for a moment alone with you, but you don't seem to want to leave your woman's side."
The man who approached wore a sleek tuxedo, his slicked-back hair emphasizing a large, shiny forehead that made Crescentia want to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. His smile was bright but shallow, and his eyes lingered a second too long on her cleavage before flicking back up to Damian.
"Then why did you come?" Damian asked bluntly.
Crescentia tried not to react, but the man's face twisted a little at the harsh tone.
"Come on now," he said, recovering. "You know about my new project—Vivid Vogue? Launching soon. It's big. Real big. You'd be smart to invest now, while it's still hot. I promise you won't regret it."
At the mention of Vivid Vogue, Crescentia's heart stuttered.
She knew that name.
Vivid Vogue was the very project she'd once dreamed of joining. A modeling recruitment and debut program for fresh talent. She had wanted to audition so badly. But Lucian had discouraged her—manipulated her, convincing her that modeling would ruin her health and appearance. That it was beneath her. That she wasn't cut out for it.
Then—almost like a slap in the face—Juliette auditioned the very next day. And got accepted.
Realization hit Crescentia like a wave.
Lucian hadn't discouraged her for her own good. He'd done it to keep her small. To keep her from shining. So Juliette could have the spotlight alone.